Ok, so maybe this anecdote doesn't directly relate to Vegas, but these experiences happened enroute to and from Sin City in the surrounding less populated, less developed towns. So there!

And let me say upfront that this is probably not politically correct (Wikipedia says "the term is frequently considered derogatory" but maybe I'll edit that wikipage later ;-p). Life is too short to walk on proverbial eggshells anyway. So be offended if you choose, that's your prerogative.

Now with that disclaimer out of the way...

We ran into hillbillies on our travels, twice! Yes, people. They do exist. Not just in Hollywood productions, but in real life

. Both cultural encounters were intriguing but it was also kinda weird to be confronted by this stereotype in the flesh.

We had stopped at a gas station on the outskirts of Vegas enroute to Grand Canyon, to ask for directions (our free maps were not detailed enough). I could've easily gone inside to ask the staff but there they were...

A family of 4 in a pick-up truck who all looked freakishly alike. Too alike! They provoked flashbacks to Daddy-uncle and Sister-aunt of the True Blood series, if you follow my meaning? Ok then, think Cletus and Brandine, the hillbillies from the Simpsons. Their clothes were ragged and dirty, mostly denim and checkered. They seemed keen to help even though they'd never been to the Grand Canyon themselves. But it's within spitting distance, I thought. Granted I hadn't been to Robben Island until recently and I still haven't been to the Tower of London!

So Maw called Paw over from the other side of the van to see if he could help.

When they smiled, it exposed their few remaining teeth. They were either yellow, rotten or chipped, or all of the above. Yet it seemed like they were constantly chewing while talking. Just chewing while their lips moved and sound came out. I really couldn't concentrate on the words, let alone make sense of the directions. Then their teeth disappeared and there was silence. They were just staring at me. I guess I should go now. Er, thanks very much!

Then a couple of days later in the supermarket in Williams I dashed down the soda aisle to find Coca Cola. I had the sense that someone was hot on my heels so I stopped suddenly and turned around. A barefoot teenage girl in a tattered, dolly dress came to an abrupt halt too, nearly bumping into me. I said: "Oops, sorry!". But she said nothing. She just stood there looking at me, and then looked at the floor. She twirled her hair and playfully turned her knee inwards, acting all coy.

After some awkward silence she finally plucked up the courage to say: Girl: "I like your tattoo."Dee: "Thanks."Girl: "What is it?"Dee: "It's a phoenix."Girl: "I have a friend who lives there."*pause*Dee: "Oh yes, that's right. We're in Arizona."Girl: (still keeps standing there, doing her nervous twirling again, not saying anything)Dee: "Do you have any?"Girl: "WHAT??" (in an inappropriately abrupt manner)Dee: "Tattoos." (silly me, forgetting her age)Girl: "NO!!" (and then she dashed off into the distance)

Well, baste my belly and call me a turkey! I wasn't quite sure what just happened. In fact, I'm still trying to make sense of these encounters.